


An Absolute Truth?

by Whatevergirl



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alley Sex, Character Death is a given in this Fandom, Dubious Consent, Kink Meme, M/M, Valjean's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatevergirl/pseuds/Whatevergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Kink Meme Prompt: 'Alley sex with a twist; Javert's consent is dubious, or at least from Valjean's perspective. It's hard to tell if Javert's letting himself be fucked up against the wall because he wants this, or if it's because Valjean was pointing a gun at him like three seconds ago, and he'd really rather not get shot.<br/>Big focus on his moral turmoil over the issue of Javert's consent and canon proceeds unimpeded. Which is to say, Valjean sees a paper with Javert's suicide in it, and really that only makes things worse for him in terms of emotional conflict.'</p><p>Makinghugospin: Round 5 Page 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Absolute Truth?

He had had his gun poking the spy in the back; perhaps that was why when Valjean pressed Javert into the brickwork and pressed his teeth into the back of his neck, the inspector did not object. He allowed Valjean to move, adrenaline flooding him; this energy burning his veins, his heart, his lungs... burning lower.

Jean Valjean pressed his lips to the sweat soaked collar of the shirt Javert wore, up higher to the nape of his neck; sweaty, salty, so hot... Valjean suckled on it, unable to battle back the images of Javert on his knees before him.

Javert was always so... submissive. In Montreuil sur Mer, the man had done everything in his power to keep Madeleine happy. Earlier, even, as a guard in Toulon, Javert had always bowed so low to those he considered superior. Valjean placed his gun on one of the tables nearby that had not joined the barricade and wrapped two large hands around Javert’s hips.

The inspector ought to bow to him again. The idea filled Valjean with a heat he could not deny, yet felt mortified over nonetheless. The uneven surface of the bricks pressed uncomfortably against his knuckles as the man rocked his hips slowly into Javert’s hips.

The spy’s eyes were shut; his breathing quick and a high blush had set into his cheeks. The man was as beautiful as ever. At night, he sometimes lay awake imagining the ways he could have had Javert; in his office, over a desk, at his comfortable little home in that town, in his bed, on his back with his legs spread. The idea made Valjean feel more desperate.

“Javert...” he whispered, before kissing his neck again. He wanted to turn the man around, to fully embrace him, but Javert was hunched in on himself, arms curled into his chest, head bowed as he leaned into the wall. “Beautiful...”

He moved his lips upward, suckling the lobe before him into his mouth. Javert gasped below him, his face still twisted slightly, but his hips wriggled in Valjean’s grasp. He did it again and then slowly dragged the tip of his tongue around the shell, behind the ear, blowing gently into it. Javert whimpered, and Valjean held back a moan.

He shifted them both, turning Javert so he could have proper access to him. He bracketed the wall either side the younger man’s head with his arms, feeling oddly powerful at how small the shrinking police officer seemed. The once highly respected mayor of Montreuil sur Mer devoured the mouth of Inspector Javert. He licked his way inside, pressing his body tight to the other’s, giving him nowhere to go, feeling the heat of their heaving chests rubbing together.

Javert tilted his head back slightly, bringing his arms up as though to push Valjean away. However, he did not; he merely rested his hands on Valjean’s shoulders, spread his legs enough for the man to stand solidly in between them and allowed his breath to be exchanged with an ex-convict’s.

Was the man allowing him a chance? Valjean hoped so. He thrust his hips forward, pressing his growing erection in between Javert’s legs. There was an answering hardness there... His arms fell to cup Javert’s buttocks, pushing the man higher up the wall. The man groaned and swore in response, the colours of his eyes impossible to see for the blackness in them; it made him so much more beautiful. With Javert’s legs now wrapped firmly around his waist, Valjean set about completing his body’s demands.

Every thrust was slightly less fulfilling now though, Javert was too high up and those delicious buttocks were teasing his arousal, just out of his reach. He wanted to feel them more fully. He pressed his hands to Javert’s hips and pushed harshly down; with the other’s legs around him, the man did not go down too far, but the pressure he made was agonising and wonderful. 

With his hands creating the friction he desired, Valjean set about trying to make Javert moan again. He wanted to explore the skin that was so close, but he settled for tasting it. He used his teeth to pull the dishevelled collar back and bite at the skin there. Javert’s breathing quickened slightly, but it was not the response he was after. He nipped lightly up Javert’s neck, enjoying the way the younger man jumped with each touch of his teeth, and while the other tightened his legs, he did not moan.

Valjean turned his attention back to the man’s ear, remembering his earlier noises at having his lobe sucked. The same happened this time. Javert wrapped his arms more solidly around Valjean’s shoulders and bared the side of his head, his throat to his attacker.

It was wonderful.

It was still not quite enough. He wanted to take the other apart, as he had so often in his dreams. Valjean slid them down the wall, before turning and pushing Javert onto his back. Despite the mud and the filth surrounding the flushed officer, Javert looked stunning.

The man was still gasping, and even as Valjean lay upon the beautiful figure, he wanted to ask if this was what the other man desired as well; to check it wasn’t the deprivation of proper breath, both from the students’ treatment of him, and then Valjean’s own attentions that were addling his mind. As the inspector moaned again, and returned his legs to the previous position around his waist, as Valjean found he could now _touch_ , he discovered he could not rip his lips away from their position in exploring the wet cavern of Javert’s own mouth to ask.

Javert’s skin was not soft, and it was not smooth. It was the rough skin of a man who wore cheap clothing every day, of a man who suffered injuries and skin ailments without visiting the doctor; even his jaw line was filled with uneven stubble, as though he was not shaving as carefully as he could... or as though he did not think anyone would care.

Valjean pressed his lips softly along his skin, the burning need for release replaced now with this idea that Javert needed love. He kissed his lips, his face, his neck. He unbuttoned the man’s waistcoat, his shirt and tasted the skin there, covered in hair as rough as the rest of him. Valjean turned his attention to Javert’s nipples, now visible and terribly distracting. They were pink and erect already. He curled his lips around one and sucked on it, pressing the broad plane of his tongue across it, allowing the rough texture of his tongue to slowly rub... 

Javert had his elbows pressed under his body, pushing his chest up and out for the convict he had hunted... Valjean saw there was sweat pooling on his upper lip, and left the throbbing nipple to mouth at that. Javert whimpered sweetly beneath him. He would show the man he was loved.

Or, was this tormenting him? He pulled back to stare into that red face, to try and catch those flitting eyes that would not look at him. He had had a gun at the man’s back... Did that influence him? Was Javert worried that he would be killed if he did not go along with this? The shy way Javert pressed his face into Valjean’s neck could imply he was still frightened, but the man’s cock was hot and hard where it pressed into his belly... Was he one of those men who enjoyed humiliation in their pleasure? 

It was pointless to even wonder on it. Javert was strong willed enough to say no, even if he had decided to take on the act of a shy virgin now. The fear that maybe Javert _was_ a virgin was quickly distracted from his head though, when his companion pulled his hair and whispered “Please...” in his ear.

Valjean pushed the officer back onto the floor and began to unfasten his trousers; pushing the material down enough to release that cock... It was oddly attractive... Valjean had been with two men before, and had seen many naked men in his time in prison, but somehow, Javert was more wonderful to look upon than any other he had seen. He let his tongue peek out, and lick the tip. Javert’s hips twitched up and he swore slightly. Valjean grinned, debating trying to do more to see the reaction he could get, but the taste hadn’t been that pleasant and he did not know how long the students would wait. It took but a moment to pull those boots off, to push those trousers all the way down and out the way of his prize.  
Valjean turned Javert over to get a view of the rear end that had followed him from Toulon. It was pale, fairly cool to touch, but still so arousing. He pressed his face into its line, breathing in the musky scent of Javert. The man yelped at the unexpected action and tried to move away. Valjean decided he was having none of it, and reached out a tongue. He did not think about whether or not it was disgusting, after all they were lying in much worse. He burrowed the tip of his tongue into Javert’s hole, hearing the man beg him to stop...

The pleading tone was wonderful, he spread the others cheeks and shoved his tongue as far in as he could, the sounds Javert made causing his mouth to flow with drool. He pushed as much into the other as he could, wanting to take the man but having no lubricant of any kind with him; his own cock was leaking so much though, that this wasn’t strictly true. He pushed a finger in, then another, not really giving Javert time to adjust, but hoping he could handle it all the same.

He reached a hand round to stroke Javert’s own burning erection. There was plenty of precome there as well, and he gathered some on his fingers, spread over them as best he could manage. He shoved three fingers into Javert’s body, hearing Javert yell at first, trying to wiggle away, before adapting and enjoying the feel, pushing back onto him. It would have to do, he could wait no longer. 

The brief thought that he should stop flickered through his mind, but it was brief. It was not as though he held a gun to Javert’s back any longer. The man could have said no a long time ago. 

Valjean pushed his way into Javert’s body. It was not an easy slide, it was rough and almost painfully tight, despite the preparations Valjean had done... it was fantastic though. The heat was almost overwhelming, and he struggled to hold his body still, to give the man below a moment. He ran his hand up and down the somewhat deflated cock, coaxing it back to life. He fastened his lips around an earlobe and suckled, allowing it to touch his teeth. Javert began to move again.

The man shook, his arms trembling to hold his weight, especially with the pressure of Valjean’s body upon him. The older man began to move as well. Slightly uncomfortable at first, until his path became more slick and Javert’s body started to relax around him. It was good.

He growled low as his hips shoved forwards and back, undoubtedly pushing mud and stone into Javert’s skin. It was delicious. He pulled back pulled and slammed his cock back into the willing body beneath him... but it was not just a body, it was Javert... and when the man asked him to stop, he forced his hips to stop.

Thankfully, Javert merely wanted to turn over, wanted to cling to his body as he was plundered. It was better, he decided, as this way Javert could pant and moan in his ear, could plea his words with hot breath so much closer... not that Valjean was really hearing the words anymore, but Javert stopped speaking and settled for suckling Valjean’s neck to muffle his sounds.

Valjean growled again, fucking Javert into the rough ground. He slipped one hand down to where they joined and felt the motion of him taking Javert. It was too much. The thought, the feel of this powerful man submitting to him... he spent his hot release deep inside Javert’s body, feeling those lower caverns clench around him as though Valjean’s climax had set off Javert’s.  


Gasping, sweaty and sticky, Valjean collapsed just to the side of Javert. The other man turned shy again, looking away so as not to see his face.

“Thank you.” He whispered, unable to think of how to say he appreciated being allowed to see the vulnerable side of him. It was beautiful. Javert flushed, scowled and sat up, trying to pull his clothing back together. 

Valjean let the man run away, firing a shot at the wall even as the other shouted promises to arrest him back. He hoped the students had not been listening though. It was likely unbecoming of him to fuck a man then kill him.

\---

The revolution pushed thoughts of Javert to the back of his mind, and it was not until nearly a week later, while he was sat drinking tea with his daughter that he even saw the note in the paper. It was just a small piece, to say how the body of inspector Luc Javert (51 years) had been found in the Seine; that many believed it was suicide, and that the police prefecture would not say one way or another. The paper then went on to speculate that perhaps the recent rebellion had stirred up emotions of despair in the highly efficient, still unmarried police inspector, supported by the man pinning his Legion of Honour medal onto a yet nameless child fighter.

However, Valjean did not see the still face of a dead Gavroche, he did not think of how Javert must have found some respect for the bravery of a child. He did not worry about how Javert must have discovered his human emotions, because apparently Valjean had pushed him beyond the limit. The paper stated Javert had died the same night in June that he had been hiding in his home, hoping Marius would improve so that his daughter would still love him... if he had been less selfish, if he had wondered for more than a fleeting moment why the hound that had followed him across the years had stopped...

Had it been his fault entirely though? Had he raped a man who had already suffered so much in one day? Valjean felt his heart tear at the idea. He had wanted Javert so desperately, but had the man wanted him in return? Certainly, in Montreuil sur Mer, the man had desired him; he had seen it in the inspector’s every action around him. However, he had then been Madeleine, a respectable man with a clean, if unclear past. Had he wanted Jean Valjean in the same manner?

It was impossible to say. The man had found release in their actions, but a lonely body is perfectly capable of reacting to the correct stimulus. Had his mind been against the idea? Had he forced the man to accept something he did not want?

Had Valjean as good as thrown a turmoil filled inspector Javert over the banks of the Seine and into the vicious flow himself? Had he, who had dreamed of pale flesh and desperate moans, caused the torment that resulted in a good man killing himself? Has his actions left Javert feeling he only had one escape? So filled with fear and horror that he would risk the flames of Hell...

Perhaps Javert had died in an attempt to save him. If killing himself meant he did not have to lie to the police, and he would not have to send Valjean to jail... Would that count as sacrifice? Perhaps Javert could go to Heaven for trying to save Valjean without breaking one of the commandments...

He felt a tear fall, as he tried to push back acknowledgement that it was likely wistful thinking.

“Papa? What is wrong?”

Cosette did not know, could not know and would not understand. His dear child... how could he say he had probably driven a man who had been keeping the streets safe to his death? She was just here until Marius was better... if she knew what he was capable of; she would not seek his comfort in waiting for the boy to heal.

He covered a face with his hand.

“An... old friend has died, my girl.” He whispered, unsure if he had any right to call Javert a friend... maybe he should have said acquaintance? 

“Oh, Papa...” She gasped and stood to wrap her arms around him. He allowed her for a moment, before pushing her away. She should not comfort the murderer...

“When is the funeral, Papa? Do you still have your formal suit?”

“Funeral?” He stared at her for a moment. He could not go to the man’s funeral, with all his friends and family there. Surely a man so well respected would have many mourners, maybe not a wife, but siblings, perhaps parents... children could occur outside of marriage too... There would be his colleagues from the police. There would be his friends. It was true that in Montreuil sur Mer, the man had not had any friends beyond Madeleine because the town was small and had not understood his dry wit, but Paris was a large place. Javert surely had friends.

How could Valjean turn up in the knowledge that he had taken the man and that doing so had been the final weight on the man’s already over burdened shoulders? He had broken Javert...

Valjean shook his head at Cosette. He would pray that God would find some mercy for Javert in his own home, however long it took. He could not make a mockery of Javert’s funeral and turn up to what was likely to be a busy place anyway. It was his fault after all.

He would mourn and pray for Javert alone... As alone as he ought to be.


End file.
